


Finno

by an_evasive_author



Series: House of Ñolofinwë [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Childhood, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Parenthood, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-22 09:51:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22714150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_evasive_author/pseuds/an_evasive_author
Summary: A child is a great responsibility, which should come as no surprise. Nolofinwe and Anairë know that and still they decided for one.A child, an heir to all that which Nolofinwe stands for is, despite the headaches, perhaps the greatest accomplishment to a prince.Planning and plan-making has commenced, the due-date calculated down to the decimal degree.Nolofinwe is ready to be a father.Or maybe not.
Relationships: Anairë/Fingolfin | Ñolofinwë
Series: House of Ñolofinwë [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633537
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	Finno

Nolofinwe appreciated routine in his life.

This came as very little of a surprise to anyone, really. It was a bit of trivia about the second son of Finwë, that little titbit of knowledge carefully cultivated, which everyone knew. It made the prince who preferred to have himself sequestered away in his studies a little more _personal_. Elves would know of their prince's partiality for lists and for carefully maintained workspaces and recall this fondly. Like someone reminiscing over an old acquaintance one had not seen for a while.

And it was true; So very true. He liked measured order and schedules planned ten cycles in advance.

Certainly, not everything needed to be planned; No one could have Arafinwe as a brother and maintain such a belief. But it was nice to have one's cycle divided into pieces so everything would get done at a reasonable time.

It saved on headaches and wild flailing later on.

Which made current affairs so stressful was the fact that nothing went as it was supposed to and Nolofinwe could look all he wanted on his timetable and still it would not right itself.

This entire cycle so far had been spent making snap decisions and Nolofinwe was certain he did not care much for such dither so soon after breakfast.

It had started so deceptively innocent, as these things usually did. Did he wish to lead court or bury himself in the ever present legal documents in desperate need of signing? Something had come up and his nice planning had been thrown into disarray.

But even though he was not very adventurous, he still could improvise and for a while the unforeseen seemed to be well in hand.

And then there had been a knock, rather too early for tea and his wife rapped not upon a door with the squirrelly insistence that had assaulted Nolofinwe's ears.

And then, for a while, there had been very little in the way of calm composure. Because the child had simply spontaneously decided to hurry the proceedings along and enter the world nearly an entire season earlier than what the midwife and Anairë had so carefully calculated.

Torn between hastening his step and keeping decorum, Nolofinwe hastened with wide strides through the numerous corridors -where the layout made sense only after first thousand or so times one walked through them- worried for all manners of silly and perhaps not so silly things.

Had he closed his inkwell before leaving? Well, he had dropped the quill but he had also picked it back up before coming here and so the mess could not be too terrible, could it? He had not taken any time to double check. But he was also no savage and so the thought of having splattered ink everywhere... He did not grumble loudly but he was still not happy.

Focusing on such trivial matters had come quite natural, his thoughts had been bouncing around in a disorderly mess the moment he had been notified.

But what was the alternative? Worrying that something was wrong? In the process of going wrong right this very instant? Oh, his mind had seemingly no limitations when it came to conjuring up any and all possible, and impossible, outcomes.

He shook his head as if to shake the thoughts loose.

Anairë was and would continue to be fine. As fine as one who was in the process of giving birth could reasonable be.

There would be no complications, no danger. His child, his son, Anairë had told him with the certainty of one who had already seen the outcome before her abdomen had even begun to show a hint of curve. Findekáno, they had decided for the name shortly after Anairë's premonition for _that_ had not been foretold, would be fine as well.

Cranky most likely, Nolofinwe could imagine anyone would be after such excitement, but he would be alright.

It had not helped that his own father had always been...somewhat tense when it came to Indis and her pregnancies. Some scars ran too deep to be soothed easily. Perhaps some of this forever remaining trauma had rubbed off on Nolofinwe as well.

* * *

When he reached the door, another decision that had needed to be made quickly presented itself; Did he kick the door in to save time, or open it carefully to avoid unnecessary commotion? Decisions, decisions.

A middle ground it was then, open the door, command the room, this he could do and it would make him look far less crazed. Hopefully.

It was easier to look sane when one shared blood with Fëanáro, everyone looked sane in comparison. One would only need to not set anything on fire or curse someone who had annoyed up to their grandchildren and all would be convinced that Nolofinwe was well adjusted.

* * *

“Your Highness,” said the midwife when Nolofinwe had entered, looking as if trying to keep at least some of the unhinged desperation in his gaze away. “Why, we had not expected you so soon.”

Which sounded like utter foolishness, frankly, because the first thing Nolofinwe had done when he had been informed had been to make haste to support his wife.

It had been a little earlier than anyone had anticipated, nothing to worry over. Just a season. In the middle of spring when it should have been early summer. No matter, in the end it was the child which decided when to proceed.

And their son had wished for it right now.

“Yes, well,” Nolofinwe cleared his throat and clapped his hands together, “I trust all has been coming along more or less smoothly so far? How far along is Anairë?”

At that the midwife blushed a little, averted her gaze. “It—Well, that is to say...”

“Is something amiss?” The hesitation was enough to send that little nagging voice in his ears to bite down upon his heart, to focus overmuch on the doubts that had taken a hold of him and had been so hard to quiet. _Had_ something gone wrong? Was the time too early after all? Was their son alright?

The midwife must have seen his mortified stare, she touched his arm and smiled a practiced, reassuring smile, “Nothing of the sort. It is simply that-- Well...”

* * *

“Oh, there you are,” said Anairë, a book in one hand and the other resting on a tiny blue bundle on her chest when Nolofinwe entered the room quietly and with reluctant timidity. She giggled and waved him closer, “Will you stop being silly? Neither one of us is made from glass.”

Nolofinwe could admit that he had perhaps not all that much experience when it came to childbirth and the effects it had on parents.

His own mother had both not wished for an audience and for Nolofinwe and his subsequent siblings to see the carnage that was giving birth. That had meant that Nolofinwe had only ever met his newest sibling when the blood and the screaming had ceased.

But even then, Nolofinwe could have sworn it would have left... _marks_ of some kind. Not that he wished for his wife to be in pain, of course not. She was rather blasé about the entire thing however. Somehow he had expected more _gravitas_ for the entire event.

Oh well. Perhaps the heavens did not have to shake for something like this. He was certainly fine with that.

“I missed it,” he said and this time it was not a question. It had been a question when he had asked, several times, for clarification from the midwife.

Nolofinwe was not certain he could have brought out anything more complicated than this at the moment. Even though the heavens had not shook, he most certainly was shaken.

“There was not much to witness, really. I nearly missed it myself,” she smiled fondly and dipped her graceful neck to nuzzle at the lump wrapped in soft fabrics. “He was in quite a hurry, I did not even have time to come up with any clever insults to hurl around,” Anairë mused and clicked her tongue.

“Childbirth would have been the perfect excuse to give cussing a try,” she admitted solemnly but shrugged “Oh well, next one then.”

Nolofinwe chuckled, cleared his suddenly scratchy throat and made to lift a corner of the blue swaddle. “I want to at least see this one first before planning for more.”

The blanket came away a little and Nolofinwe looked upon what he had made with his wife.

Still somewhat wrinkled looking but otherwise appearing perfectly content, Findekáno slumbered. Tiny fists lay limply curled next to his face, the nail on his thump as tiny as a grain of rice. There was not a lot of elfling there, all things considered.

But it was, after all, about the quality instead of the quantity.

He had given his mother barely any advance warning, hurried right through the main event and was now quite at a loss what to do, now that it was over. Sleeping was just as well; Now that he had a little more space to not quite stretch out.

It was a sudden struggle to think of something to do, Nolofinwe found. Should he greet the tiny creature before him, speaking softly? Or perhaps his throat was far too dry to utter anything more than a breathless sort of feeble muttering at the sight.

“Hello, you,” he said and even though Findekáno did not deign it with any kind of response, it was as if the ice had broken and Nolofinwe slipped closer.

A little fist rolled from its position and a tiny arm now hung off to the side. It was enough so Nolofinwe could see the rest of his son's face.

Findekáno's tongue, the very tip poking out from between closed lips as if he was not quite able to fit the entire thing properly, wiggled a little in the most unenthusiastic raspberry and he fell still again.

Sleeping was just as well and he remained unbothered when his father moved closer to regard his tiny son with the hesitant trepidations of a new father.

Nolofinwe had already decided that he loved this tiny elf before him. He had only needed to see him lying there on Anairë's chest, smaller than anything Nolofinwe had thought possible, to know that this tiny creature would be kept safe, protected and forever loved.

“He's not made from clouds, you can pick him up,” Anairë said and, with far more confidence than Nolofinwe possessed at the moment, plucked the tiny newborn from her chest and handed him over.

Something that was neither quite a keen nor a cough escaped Nolofinwe's throat. He lunged forward just enough so he could, if needed, catch his son.

Anairë tittered and suddenly Nolofinwe held Findekáno. His mind howled something incomprehensible about properly holding the little, fuzzy head, being careful not to pinch or squeeze anything, to watch for the tiny fingers and a thousand things more.

The rest of him, having held more than one younger sibling, seemed to be doing just fine without the mess that were his thoughts for the moment and he only too gladly relinquished control.

It gave him time to somewhat observe the situation.

How curious.

Findekáno, and perhaps all children, was a creature of contraries. He was very light, nearly weightless and yet the heaviest thing Nolofinwe had ever held. Small and yet he overtook all of Nolofinwe's awareness. Defensless and yet Nolofinwe was just that short of outright hyperventilating.

None of his siblings, even when they had been just as little as Findekáno was now, had ever conjured up such frightful fits of bowel-clenching anxiety. Nolofinwe could have sworn that his siblings had been so much larger than Findekáno was; Easily filling out the space between Nolofinwe's arms. Findekáno on the other side, why, he could be lost so easily, small as he was.

Findekáno seemed to carry no such worries and continued to snore away, undisturbed. There was no hunger yet, no needs expect for warmth and perhaps a good cuddle while he slept.

For now, that was enough. Though it would likely not last for long.

The first time Findekáno began complaining, he promptly spooked himself with his own mewling and needed to be comforted while he wailed, terribly surprised at the possibility of sound, of being able to _make_ sounds. And then he needed to be soothed again when the sound he did make turned out to be remarkably loud.

His agitation spiralled for a while and then he settled once more.

Everything was new and strange and more than a little scary. With his own mewl, once he had been calmed again, came sound and Findekáno, now that he had learned that he could make _noises..._ That would come in handy later.

With sound came attention from his parents, as it turned out. These blurry giants in his vision which also turned out to be quite the experience; _Seeing,_ even if he was not yet too good at it. What had he to compare it to?

With attention came warmth on command which was very nice. And, most importantly, there was _food_. With food came hunger which was a most fortunate coincidence since Findekáno did not at all care for hunger as he found out right away.

* * *

Nolofinwe stroked Findekáno's tiny, dark head which bobbed up and down with every gulp. Either through sheer fatigue or perhaps because he was not yet ready, Findekáno's eyes remained closed even as he dined.

That was quite alright; No one wanted to be rushed through such monumental accomplishments. There was time to savour it.

All the time they needed.

Nolofinwe, still wondrously, deliriously happy and only mildly agitated, a sentiment which he visibly shared with Anaire, watched the two of them, chin leaning over Anairë's shoulder. “What a luxury, to eat in bed like this,” he murmured and chuckled huskily when Anairë nudged him.

“I remember what happened the last time _you_ ate in bed, it was about the furthest thing away from luxury I could think of.” The way she curled her brow, wrinkled her nose at the memory was so terribly beautiful, it was a shame that he only ever got to see it when she was at least a little displeased.

“Hardly my fault,” Nolofinwe challenged and there was a light squeak from their son. He had concluded his meal and wished to bring the proceedings along, “He agrees with me.”

“He does not,” Anairë said and nudged him playfully without shifting too much and sending Findekáno into another fit. She handed him over to Nolofinwe instead, “Your turn, show me. Not your first time, I wager?”

Nolofinwe obliged them both when he settled Findekáno comfortably against his shoulder. Findekáno, sounding mildly surprised and perhaps a tad cranky, mewled again simply for the sake of it.

And yet he was perfectly content and nearly asleep once more. Such was the way of infants Nolofinwe supposed when the threat of tears and tantrums ceased as fast as they had arisen. He had had not much of a chance to think during, even though he was not an elf prone to panic, he still had been somewhat overwhelmed by the prospect of his newborn beginning to declare his frustrations to the world.

But all was well again, just as suddenly Findekáno decided that indeed no damnation was needed, for now, and settled.

* * *

“Goodness me, so much free time,” Anairë said when Findekáno napped again, full to bursting and perfectly content.

She had looked out the window and indeed there had not been all that much change in the light. “I expected to be busy for a while, this however the books did not tell me about.” Not that she was at all disgruntled at the fact that Findekáno had seemed perfectly content with simply getting it all over with. Valar only knew she did not need more than what was absolutely necessary.

She shrugged, “Just as well, I feel like a cup of tea.”

Nolofinwe made to get up but Anairë waved him off.

“No, I will get it myself,” she said with a finality that allowed no talking her out of it. She slipped into robes appropriate for wandering the halls and returned to make up for the fact that Nolofinwe had not been allowed to help. “I need to stretch my legs.

Nolofinwe wiggled his ears when she kissed him and watched her saunter away with purpose. Both graceful and yet with a purpose that spoke of someone who was perfectly in control.

Oh, but if Nolofinwe did not love that about her. And it was good that she had herself back together in mere hours, it would reassure their elves, set them at ease and what greater duty did Nolofinwe and his family have than that?

“I will be back soon-ish,” she promised and pulled the door open, leaving Nolofinwe to acquaint himself a little better with Findekáno by himself. Not that she would miss much, asleep as he was.

“Have fun,” Nolofinwe said and laughed quietly when she rolled her eyes playfully before the door closed.

* * *

It was not that Nolofinwe had _forgotten_ about his own parents and the fact that they, too, would wish to see the newest member of the family. But he also could not be blamed that his previously so carefully prepared plan had been upended and nothing was quite going accordingly.

The door was opened, his father had such a terrible habit of not knocking when excited and then Nolofinwe found himself faced, alone, with his parents.

“Where is Anairë?” Indis asked and Nolofinwe shrunk under her gaze until he felt no larger than Findekáno in his arms.

“Already we have a wayward wife? A new mother on the run!” Finwë called and suddenly two incredulous parents were staring at Nolofinwe who squeezed his son a little tighter. “You aren't supposed to lose her moments after birth, Nolofinwe.”

As if to shield himself from the sudden scorn, he lifted Findekáno a little higher and the sudden onslaught of parental disdain ceased at once.

“Oh, just look at you,” came the thrilled coo and what attention had been on Nolofinwe was gone faster than he could think.

His head spun at such sudden shift in mood but Nolofinwe gathered himself when his parents sat on either side of the bed.

“Are you not perfect, little one?” Finwë asked and stroked the tiny brow of the still slumbering newborn. All anger, or whatever it was Finwë possessed that resembled it most closely, had vanished like leaves on a summer breeze. “Goodness, he is. Not that I expected anything else from you.”

Nolofinwe was glad, though not surprised, for Finwë hated every manner of vileness, be it mere dirt or unpleasant emotion. Any chance at leaving behind his own anger was gladly taken and greatly appreciated.

“Why, he looks like you, love,” Indis said and looked endlessly pleased. She did not hold Findekáno, an impossible undertaking with Finwë having firmly and completely asserted his claim over the tiny elf. But she did run her fingers over the dark fuzz on Findekáno's head. “You were just as round,” she said gently and a wistful smile softened her usually so sharp gaze.

Nolofinwe, though present at the time, had no possible way of confirming or denying the notion and so he merely hummed something that could have been either.

Finwë gazed with bright eyes at his little grandson, looking perhaps for something Nolofinwe could not hope to glean.

There came a fluttered snore, so tiny and high that it was barely heard, just loud enough to be certain that there had been sound at all. That was the extend of Findekáno's interest in his grandparents, for he was both snug and sated. Adoration could come later, there was napping to be done.

Finwë laughed, a perfectly calm sound that did not disturb the child and he pulled Nolofinwe closer, “Well done, the both of you. And the moment Anairë turns up again, I plan on telling her the very same.”  
  
“She will be glad to hear it,” Nolofinwe said even as his own chest swelled with pride.

* * *

Anairë returned and was promptly scolded in the whispered sort, Findekáno was still asleep, of parental disapproval that made her own ears press back against her head most guiltily. It did not last long and no one was truly all that vitriolic. It was a matter of formalities, mostly. And both Anairë and Nolofinwe bowed their heads while pretending to be sorry while Finwë and Indis pretended to be stern. Finally, once that was over, they had tea.

They had offered that, whenever Anairë and Nolofinwe needed it, to watch over Findekáno, no matter the reason. It had never been a question of _If_ and only ever of _When_. That they had servants and nurses who could do the same was neither brought up nor would it have been accepted as an answer.

Though it was rather blatantly obvious that Finwë at least partially wished these future free time would be spent constructively. Which, of course, meant making more grandchildren. He was too polite and tactful to say it outright, but the implication was rather obvious.

His father's desire for grandchildren could -and of this Nolofinwe had no doubt- never be sated only appeased. He never pressured nor insisted, but Nolofinwe had seen the joy that had taken hold of his father the day Maitimo had first been unveiled by Fëanáro.

Not long ago had been Macalaurë and shortly after, Nolofinwe had married Anairë. Having a child, a successor and heir, that was the duty of a prince and besides, Nolofinwe rather enjoyed the idea of a little one running about. A little one who did not sell their siblings.

Of course they already _had_ planned for more children as well. But one was enough for the time being; Until they knew what they were doing. Or thought they knew. Or could at least somewhat pretend, whichever came first.

It was at that point that Indis ushered her husband out, allowing not another word and wrangled Findekáno from his careful, expert grip before he could snatch the child away for himself. There was only enough time for Finwë to speak out his blessings and to kiss their foreheads before Indis whisked him away.

Silence and peace returned. Mostly. Findekáno snuffled about once, sneezed and promptly frightened himself. And that silence and peace were gone as fast as it had come.

“That went over well,” Nolofinwe said just before Anairë's sardonic laughter dampened whatever hope he felt. “What? Am I wrong?”

“Just wait until your brother comes to visit. We will have to frisk him; Otherwise he will simply stuff poor Finno under his shirt and run.”

“He would _absolutely_ do that,” Nolofinwe begrudgingly agreed, he knew Arafinwe. “Though I doubt he would not bring him back after he got tired of the responsibilities. Luckily, that is still some time away.” Also, “Finno?” he asked and turned around to where Anairë sat in the rocking chair near the window.

“I like it,” Anairë said, “Little Finno. Too short for a proper name, but in private. Rolls well off the tongue. ”

“That it does,” Nolofinwe agreed and made to kiss them both.

* * *

What a hard first cycle it had been. Barely beginning to smooth out from his curled, squashed form and already Findekáno had been busy being fawned over and eating _and_ sleeping.

Why, at this rate, there would hardly be enough time to put another nap in between his already full schedule. There had been a bath and a very tiny blue romper but now, finally, Findekáno could rest as he deserved.

Findekáno was settled between his parents, both curled onto their sides as they watched their newborn child lie there like a loaf of bread. There was not yet much in the way of movement, safe the movements of breathing. Wiggling and grabbing for anything and everything would come later.

And so the very first impression the world had impressed on little Finno ended when the tiny elf was settled in for his very first, very erratic round of true sleep.

It was as good a start as any.


End file.
